


and you fell, hard on the ground

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, angel!Harry, flowerchild!nick, help me, plz, what did i write, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nicholas grimshaw has a secret, but one he keeps locked and hidden. he protects it with his life, because it is. his secret is what keeps him breathing and that’s okay.</p><p>it really is.</p><p>but no, no it's not. it breaks him and damages him, tears his soul out and laughs as he cries. but it fixes it when it needs to. plasters it up and kisses it better.</p><p>so nick has a secret. or a curse. but maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, it might be a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is queen-grimshaw
> 
> somebody help me, what did i write

if you asked nicholas grimshaw if he had a secret he would laugh and nod. he would perhaps tap his nose or push a finger to his lips, winking and giggling quietly. but if you might have pushed a few drinks into his hands, watch quietly as the liquid spilled down his top as he drank it, you might be told his real secret. he might study you softly, a look of curiosity etched into his skin as words slipped out of his mouth. he might tell you that his biggest secret is that he is in love. he might leave it there, running nimble fingers through styled pink hair. or his cheeks might echo the colour of his hair, beckoning softly with his fingers to draw you closer. his lips might brush your ears as he tells you his real secret. you might inhale or push away, or maybe embrace. if you are a coward, you might let your feet hit the ground as you run. maybe your eyes will soften as you smile up at him, touching his heart through his chest. 

nicholas grimshaw has a secret, but one he keeps locked and hidden. he protects it with his life, because it is. his secret is what keeps him breathing and that’s okay.

it really is.

but no, no it's not. it breaks him and damages him, tears his soul out and laughs as he cries. but it fixes it when it needs to. plasters it up and kisses it better.

so nick has a secret. or a curse. but maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, it might be a promise.


	2. thirteen [part 1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is part one of young nick weyhey. yes i included finchy and lmc and ian and everyone will show their beautiful mugs don't you worry. i am so sorry about this guys it is awful and give me ideas because right now i'm just making nick wear flowers in his hair. i luv u all and espically u preshire

nick was 13 years old and needed a friend. his eyes were too dull and his voice too quiet. he liked to be alone too much and reading a book from eleven at night to two in the morning. his parents were blind and didn’t notice, just brushed it off to him being a teenager. they didn’t see how their son had gone from happy and loud, to fearful and quiet. even when he came home with a dirty clothes and a colourful face, they just didn’t _see_. 

at the age where he started making his own choices, nicholas made the choice of a favourite place. it was a bit silly where he would pick, often mumbling the name and wringing his hands. but you could rarely see him out of the shop when holidays were on, wrapped in scarves and coats in winter and simply in shorts and t-shirts in summer. nick loved sugarpaper with all his little heart and the shop seemed to love him back.

sugarpaper seems like a hilarious name but it fitted the quirky shop easily, the name in curved letters and the shop front appealing. it was a candy store, chocolate and chewing gum perched in the window, candy canes and bon-bons peeking from big glass containers. but it was more than that, it was a land of fiction and fantasy, heavy books littering the inside, lending people stories and facts. it was warm and cosy, with a little tinkling bell when you pushed the door open. The bell never really came to its full potential most of the time, only ringing a couple times in the day. mainly the first when a black haired boy stumbled into the shop with tears streaming down his face and last being when he left, a smile lit up by the shining moon.

the way the day worked on normal days was simple. nick found his way to the shop, sometimes getting his face prettied up and sometimes making it there safely. he pushed the door open and was greeting with a hug from the owner, a tall and beautiful man with the nickname of finchy. then a book would be picked and a small bum would be placed on the counter and a hand would find its way into a sweet jar and it would stay like that for hours. sometimes someone came in, or a couple and they would sit at a quiet table and let their fingers run over pages of the worn books. the young boy might coo over them with the older man, dropping sweets on the table and offering drinks. sometimes kids came in with bright eyes and watering mouths, with parents buying them ice-cream and dragging them back out.

so, it was expected and cliched that one day _wouldn't_ be normal. it was a day where an older man with a big heart had left his shop in the hands of a troubled boy, trusting him with his soul to look after his living. he just neglected the boy for that one day, looking over the purpling dent on his face, just handing him the keys and rushing out the door. he just forgot to look back as the teenager broke down, knees collapsing and face burying into his hands. it wasn't his fault and sometimes mistakes can be made up. 

it’s still unknown if this mistake was fixed, or if this mistake caused more pain.


	3. thirteen [part 2]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weyhey

nick was found though, awhile later. somebody, it might be better to phrase that as something, saw a little boy, maybe better heard, so broken that he needed to be fixed up. the shop jingled with happiness as her favourite person was discovered, as her door was pushed open and eyes fell on a trembling boy. sometimes, years from now, she wishes her door had been locked or gotten stuck. maybe then she wouldn't be so empty and miss the laugh that filled her up and made her happy.

nicholas had hidden behind his knees, his fingers digging into the fabric on his jeans, wanting to just go. as his eyes burned and his cheeks stung, he wondered in a broken haze if he tried a little harder to make other people happy would it be better. his shoulders were digging into the wooden shelves that held the books, shuddering and heaving at each gasp of breath he took.

the reality of his situation was pulled from his harmful sobs as foreign fingers brushed against his wrists. his breath caught and faultered, yet his tears didn't, when he raised his head. his eyes were meeting impossibly old ones, that held so much and nicholas felt like he was intruding. but they were glazed over once they had been noticed, had turned into a warmth of understanding. they went blurred from his gaze though, as the tears built up more. as he blinked them away, he felt the warmth of hands grasp beneath his knees and small of his back.

then he was being lifted up and curled into a beating chest, face hidden by soft fabric and ears clouded over with gentle murmurs. he was cradled like a child, settling into a lap and having his hair run through by long fingers. he was let cry, fists bundling into a leather jacket and clinging on for dear life. he was let bury his damp and sore face into a ribcage, listening to the soft thumping of a living being. 

it was probably moments, maybe even seconds but it felt like an eternity for the boy to calm down. his breath stopped hitching, the burning of his lungs settling into a mild ache as he relaxed and his eyes grew dry. he remained still though, letting his heavy breath match the softer of his protector. with his finger anchored onto the low-hanging top, he let his eyes drift slowly upward. like the first time all he noticed was old eyes, so old. they looked like they stretched for aeons, a swirl of danger and fear in a glittering emerald.

but he opened his sticky eyes further, sniffled back his words and studied. he was struck with the contrast of old on young. the puppy fat was still clouded around cheekbones, chocolate curls framing his gentle frame and soft shoulders. nick's brain didn't get it, didn't know how the eyes of such an old man could fit onto such a beautiful young face. to be honest the boy was too caught up in learning and studying every dent in the man's face to notice what was going on. he didn't react until the last moment, having not seen the way the old yet young man's head had dipped. he reacted though, by tensing and getting his breath stuck as a set of lips brushed his.

the fingers that had splayed softly across his shoulders moved up, grasping tightly around his neck and pushing him up further. nicholas was seeing bright lights at this point beneath his closed eyelids, but he wasn't struggling. he simply let the soft pink lips press against his, too panicked and shocked to pull away. he felt the coaxing of a tongue at the firm line that kept his lips closed and he simply parted it, not knowing what else to do. he felt his chest heaving and his fingers clenching and un-clenching, his brain trying to catch up on the situation.

by the time he had accepted that he was being kissed by a stranger, and frankly he was enjoying it, the man had pulled up and was shifting nick again. he was being grasped under his arms and was hoisted up, legs flopping to each side of the stranger. he was put back down and he immediately sought for the anchor of the soft fabric again. the hands splayed across his hips this time, head cocked to the side and studying the young boy intently. softly gulping nick didn't want to raise his voice. he didn't wish to speak because he was scared, scared of what would happen. but the stranger seemed to understand, his eyes soft and his tone gentle.

"are you okay?" it seemed like a weird question to nick, because the young man could be asking anything. he could be referring to the kiss, or maybe the bruises that littered his body. maybe the crying, or being left alone. tongue thick nick blinked slowly, his shoulders rolling up and down in a shrug. he didn't know, so that's what he signalled. as fingers ran through his messy hair again he pushed into them, seeking for the comfort and attention there. he wasn't aware of the noise he made, a little needy whine at the back of his throat. he did feel the stranger tense under his grasp and continue to dance his fingers through the black hair, maybe a little bit harder this time.

"c'mere," was the slow drawl that brought nick back to focusing on the male, his voice deep and booming. he leant forward slightly, not knowing what to expect. the other did the same, but shifted his neck, bringing a soft brush of a kiss to the deep purple of nick's cheek. tensing the thirteen year old shook his head, eyes welling up with tears again. he just gained a simple 'shh' though, as the curly-haired person continued to leave fleeting kisses on the damaged skin. the boy was confused mostly when he felt a cold tingling on his face, sticking and staying until it gently trickled away. the pain was gone.

he felt the tugging of his hair cease though, as the fingers danced down his face and gently pressed against his eyelids. they drooped heavily, his head starting to drop and shoulders slump. his torso fell against the larger man, a content sound of sleep passing through his lips. large arms wrapped around him as his world grew dark and full of dreams.


End file.
